


Switching Talents

by Blind Dyslexic Bat (CorinneConnersConnie)



Series: Philip/Georges helpless [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Fluff, M/M, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 07:49:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5997558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorinneConnersConnie/pseuds/Blind%20Dyslexic%20Bat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys both decided to switch talents, unbeknownst to one another, in order to celebrate Valentines day together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Switching Talents

**Author's Note:**

> So this is in the same Universe as Helpless, but that one is still in December and I couldn't resist doing a valentines day fluf piece. Enjoy.

January 13, 2016

“George can I... Um borrow your paints?”

“My paints? Why in the hell would you need my paints? I thought poetry was you only form of art...well besides your body, but-”

“I want to expand my horizons. Plus I have this idea for a painting that I want to do, but I want to do this by myself not commission you to do it.”

“Commissioning me would imply pay.”

“Um... my body remember it?”

“Don’t remind me or that shirt might have to be replaced.” Georges came waltzing in with a set of acrylic paints, and an array of brushes and canvases in varying sizes. They balanced precariously in his arms and landed with a thump on Philips desk. A few paint brushes slipped from the wire holder they were in clattering across the smooth surface.

Mumbling a few swears in french Georges collected the brushes and put them in their designated sections of the holder. Philip stared on in amusement as Georges struggled to remember where the last brush went. He stared with great concentration at the holder and his tongue stuck out of his mouth slightly. It was something Georges did often when he was thinking, although he denied it whenever Philip mentioned it.

“You know what fuck it. I’ll look at the diagram later.”

“You have a diagram of where your brushes go?”

“Yes. I know I might not be the neatest, but when it comes to art I like to be organized. Now canvas size.” Georges laid four different canvas sizes out in front of Philip like he was at a wedding cake tasting. The sizes went from that of a small novel to roughly the size of a standard calendar. Philip contemplated his choices visualizing his idea in his head.

“Can I use this one and that one?” Philip pointed to the biggest canvas and a medium sized one only slightly smaller.

“Two... but my canvases... I mean they...are you sure?”

“You are supposed to paint on them not hoard them like you believe.”

“Fine.” In a huff Georges swept up the two smaller canvases and turned to leave. Before he could Philip grabbed his shirt collar and dragged him down into a kiss. The kiss started as one full of sweet love, but was rapidly turning into something a lot steamier. That was until Georges dropped his canvases forgetting that he was holding them as he reached for Philips arms. The sound scared the older boy and he leaped back with a yelp. His surprise quickly turned to that of worry as he picked up the canvases, searching their white surfaces for traces of dirt.

“Ok well moment over then. You can go now, I don’t need you distracting me from painting.”

“What? No you could use a little distraction before you start.”

“Go George.”

“Alright, but can I use some of your fancy dancy paper?” Philip turned his head towards Georges and gave him an incredulous look. Just like Georges and his canvases, Philip was very protective over his paper. It was expensive after all and he used it for his poetry. His father had given it to him when he returned from a trip to Albany and Philip treasured it. ”Oh come on I gave you two canvases. The least you could is give me one sheet,” Georges pleaded. 

“Fine, but you better write a rough draft on some lined paper, because my father spent a lot on this and it is not to be wasted.” Philip stared Georges down until the frenchman gave a slight nod. Philip reached down to the bottom drawer of his desk, the wood cool against his skin, hesitating before carefully removing a piece of his prized paper and handing it to Georges.

Georges may have given Philip his precious canvases, but it didn’t change how Philip felt. He was very reluctant to let go of his paper as even he barely used it. He only penned his best work on it and even then he wrote a draft beforehand. Most of his best work didn’t even see the light of day.

Not only was this to keep the paper pristine, but he also didn’t want anyone seeing it. Most of the paper was covered in poems about Georges or to Georges. Even at their current position in time he was too timid to share any of it with the older boy.

“Thanks ma petite pamplemousse.” Giving a kiss to Philip’s cheek, one Philip would deny thinking about for a few minutes, Georges bounded out of the room practically skipping.

___

 

Georges timidly knocked on a wooden door and shifted from foot to foot as he waited for a response. The sound of crisp papers rustling against one another was heard before a chair was heard scraping across a wooden floor. Georges considered bolting right then and there, but he decided he would stay rooted to the spot, highly likely out of pure fear. Of course he may have taken it a little too far when the door he had knocked upon opened up.

“George! You don’t mind coming in and talking. I have a mountain of things to write as always and I’m afraid I can’t really be pulled away from them just yet.”

“I understand s-sir.” Alexander gave the boy a quizzical look at his use of sir which was quite out of character. Shrugging it off Alexander walked back to his desk and sat heavily in his chair which creaked underneath the sudden additive of weight. Georges meant to follow he really did, but he couldn’t find the strength in him to go one step further.

“George, are you going to come in?”

“I don’t know if I can sir.”

“What are you talking about? You can’t say you’re uncomfortable around me, not after all those suggestive jokes you and your father love to make. Also what is with the sir? I thought I called you George and you called me Hamilton?”

“Well... it’s just that... this was a mistake.” Georges wanted to turn around and leave, but he was still in a state of unexplainable paralysis. Alexander smiled as Georges stood staring down at his feet. He could just tell that the boy was yelling at them in his head telling them to move. Putting an end to Georges suffering Alexander rose once again and moved to pull Georges onto the leather couch. Alexander sat in one of the two arm chairs opposite him and waited for Georges to speak.

It was a few moments before the boy could muster up his voice and when he did it was shaky and weak. Georges felt embarrassed, and heat flushed all throughout his skin. His mind was muddled as he willed himself to produce any sort of sound.

“I was wondering perhaps if...” Georges paused slightly to give a light nervous cough before continuing on slowly, “If maybe you could me some advice.”

“On what?” Alexander  smiled gently. 

“Writing. I know you have quite a talent for it. I mean everyone does as you publish pieces almost daily, even if they’re under aliases.”

“Ah yes. I do need some new ones I suppose. Ones that aren’t so obviously me. Anyhow what kind of writing advice do you need?”

“Advice on how to write... love poems.” As soon as it was out of his mouth Georges exhaled the breath he had been holding since he knocked on the door. He felt the weight on his shoulder slightly let up, but still, he couldn’t quite relax.

“That’s why you’re nervous or embarrassed, I suppose. I’m just going to go with both. You didn’t want to ask Philip’s father about how to write his son love poems. You know for how open you are about making sexual jokes I find this timidness quite out of character.” Alexander’s voice was filled with warmth and humour.

“Well it’s Philip we’re talking about. He’s just so amazing and perfect and I feel shy whenever discussing my feelings for him. They are just so unlike what I’m used to feeling towards those that I... well desire. They are just so pure and beautiful and they mirror who Philip is exactly. They remind me so much of Philip that I just don’t want to say them outloud or be brash about them, because I don’t want them to be ruined. I feel like by sharing them with people I am bearing my soul. You can understand why I would feel weird about doing that with you... his father.”

“Ok I’m going to stop you there. From what I hear you don’t need any help in writing something for my son. Just write that down in a poem and you’ll be fine.” With that Alexander rose from the arm chair giving a pat on Georges’ shoulder as he returned to the work on his desk. Georges left the office in a daze turning over what he had said and what Alexander had said to him.

___

January 14, 2016

“Philip we are going to drop off all the kids then go to our dinner! We will be staying in a hotel as your father has some business the next day where our restaurant is located. There is money on the table and-”

“The boy is eighteen now Eliza, he knows the drill.”

“Interrupt me again Alexander and you can stay here with the boys.”

“And there’s food in the fridge.” Philip’s father called up in a monotone voice as he finished Eliza's spiel.

“Yes moms I understand you both.” Philip could hear his dad start to protest, but before Alexander could yell out a proper retort Eliza pushed him through the front door, slamming it shut. As soon as his parents were out the door Philip grabbed a package from the kitchen and headed back into the living room.

“George I got you-”

“Philip I got you-” Both boys blurted out the sentences at the same time and abruptly stopped as they noticed the other speaking. Philip looked at George noticing that he had a wrapped gift in his hands just as Georges noticed the same. ”Well Philip I guess we both decided to get each other a Valentines gift.”

“I thought you hated valentine's day George?”

“You deserve something... I mean you deserve something all the time, but I mean why not do it now.”

“Ok well take my gift first... I don’t know how good it is,but... just open it.” Philip lifted his present up and the paper crinkled as it transferred from his hands to Georges’. Without waiting a second Georges ripped into the paper pulling out two different sized canvases. Ones that he had given Philip the previous day.

“You wanted to paint for... for me. Is this the photograph of the day we first met and.... a little grapefruit aw. Philip your technique needs work, but this is the best thing ever.” Georges set both paintings down on the glass coffee table and pulled Philip into an all encompassing hug. The younger boy was smothered in Georges’ sweatshirt and his breathing was slightly impaired, but he couldn’t care less.As long as Georges was holding onto him he was ok.

“As much as I would love to hold you I really want you to open my present.”

“Mmmm” Philip reluctantly drew back and took his gift from Georges. Unlike Georges’ he was careful to not rip the pink paper. He next removed the brown cardboard lid from the tiny box to reveal two poems wrote on the single piece of paper Philip had given Georges the day previous. The poems read:

 

_ Phillip, _

_ ma petite pamplemousse, _

_ petite isn’t the word I’d use to describe you _

_ you’re presence is intoxicating and you’re smile _

_ makes the stars look dim.  _

 

_ to me you are the grandest thing in existence. _

 

_ you’re the warmth with the cold _

_ the sun with the rain  _

_ the light to the dark  _

_ the completion of my part _

 

_ to me you are the only thing in existence _

 

_ (poem 2) _

_ i’m not a poet nor an expert on love  _

_ so excuse the lack of cliches and metaphors _

_ as i try to describe my love for you  _

 

_ i don’t have words flowing from my fingertips  _

_ nor proclamations raining from my hair  _

_ but i have love a plenty for you  _

 

_ i have late nights in bed whispering dirty jokes in your ear, _

_ early morning breakfasts and afternoons in the sun. _

_ i have fragmented love letters written on scrap papers _

_ and my clothes in every corner of your room. _

_ i’m no poet and you’re no star to my moon _

_ but i don’t need convoluted rhymes to know i love you _

 

“I guess we both decided to switch talents. God I love this so much although I think you should stick to painting.”

“If you stick to poetry than I think I can do that. Come here.” Georges dragged Philip down onto the couch where they snuggled into each other. They sat in silence breathing in each others colognes. It didn’t take long for both of them to drift off into a peaceful sleep. Georges hand slowly stilled in its smoothing of Philip’s hair as the younger boy snuggled a bit deeper into the folds of Georges’ arms.

“Love you.”

“Je t’aime ma petite pamplemousse.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my beta @pegqyschuyler on tumblr for writing the poetry as I can't and have no interest in writing it myself.


End file.
